If you know me personally in real life or through social media, by now you may be aware that I started a sh*tstorm in the last few days. If not and you’re on Facebook, look me up by my real name “Mustafa” and add me. It’s a lot to take in, and some may say it’s pretty messy–even disrespectful. Whatever.

But now that I have your attention, let’s discuss something that needs to be talked about in the Chinese martial arts: Titles and what they mean.

It will be impossible for me to write everything in one article, so this will be a series. We could possibly fill a series of books on the subject. As usual, it may hit a nerve with you because these are my opinion although I will state them as facts. You are free to disagree, leave me feedback, but just don’t slander me or my teacher and we can still be friends. 🙂

Here in America, it seems that more attention is given to politics and public relations than to skill. We are more likely to recognize someone’s genius by looking at whether we like them, have heard of them, know them personally–than we will by measuring their Kung Fu. And even when we “measure” their Kung Fu, we will not agree on what the definition of good Kung Fu actually means. Skill at forms? Knowledge of and display of customs and traditions? Fighting? And what kind of fighting? Mutual combat, organized matches, or street fights? More often than not, in the Chinese martial arts we measure a Sifu by things we’ve heard about rather than seen. Most of you who are reading this article will proclaim to the world that your Sifu’s fighting skill is impeccable although 99% of you have never seen your Sifu fight or fought him yourself. You will argue history and lineage while only listening to your Sifu’s stories and refuse to consider anyone else’s side. Ironically, American Kung Fu people are as close-minded about their martial arts as they are about their politics. One of the most common arguments and debates in TCMAs is because of disagreements about lineage, titles, and “Grandmastership”. This guy claims he has the most authentic art. That guy says beloved, belated Master wanted him to inherit the system. This guy learned the complete or correct system. These guys didn’t remember this guy ever coming to class. That guy can’t fight. And it goes on…

Politics and ideologies aside, I think one of the problems in the martial arts is the vagueness of the terms. I say I’m a master, this guy says he’s a Grandmaster, this guy says he founded his own thing so he’s automatically a Grand Wizard Multi Poo Bah… And probably the most overused, misunderstood, penile-retentive titles is Grandmaster. Due to time constraints and space, we will only discuss this one–and we will move on to the other terms at a later date. Regardless of the system, lineage, or art–fights over Grandmastership (who is the Grandmaster, who earned it, who declared it, is there even one, etc.) is by FAR the #1 topic.

So let’s define it. And remember, this is my blog, although I’ve named it for my lineage. My toys, my rules. What I say here does not reflect or represent the DC lineage or the Jow Ga system; it is merely my opinion. You may disagree. If you are a Jow Ga person, please feel free to pick up the phone and fuss at me because we are all family. I happen to handle constructive criticism–even corrections and chastisement–very well. I would welcome your input in the comments section after this article, both positive and negative.

What is a Grandmaster? There are two ways to answer the question, short and long. First, the short answer:

Create your own system. Many would argue that you are just a founder, though. If a 22 year old created his own system, can he be a Grandmaster? I don’t think so, he’s just a founder. But 50+ years later if the system is still going on, we may refer to him as a Grandmaster, even when the 22 year old founder never called himself Grandmaster. I’ve always thought it was funny when founders of arts refer to themselves with simple terms like “Sifu”, yet their students and grandstudents are quick to slap on Master and Grandmaster…

Be the oldest living student of the founder, who is now deceased

You teach students who have students. Then those students have students. There, Grandmaster. You are your student’s teacher, so their students call you Master, while your students call you teacher. Their students’s students will then call you Grandmaster

Master your art to the point that no one else on the planet rivals you and recognizes you as the premier guy in your specialty

I’m sure there are other definitions. Some systems have a level of achievement or rank called “Grandmaster”. Some call people “Grandmaster” out of politeness and reverence because he’s old, etc. But what a Grandmaster is NOT is a guy who simply calls himself a Grandmaster, especially when no one else in his lineage calls him Grandmaster. You know, like Muhammad Ali being “The Greatest”? He was a laughing stock when he was a young man calling himself The Greatest–but after his career spanned three decades and he beat the best fighters of his day–there was no doubt, and years after his death, no other fighter would dare call himself The Greatest. Two thoughts come to mind: 1. Most Grandmasters haven’t whipped anyone, and 2. By the time you have read this article, two more guys will decide to call himself a Grandmaster so this title is probably more plentiful than anuses, because many GMs are anuses themselves. Dime a dozen. Your friendly neighborhood Grandmaster ain’t no Muhammad Ali.

And here we arrive at the point of this article. Told you it would be long. What makes a Grandmaster? This is my definition, and please give me your opinion of my opinion!

The Grandmaster is the leader of a system. Simply having time in grade or being old doesn’t make you a leader. You must ACT like a leader. Do the others in your system look up to you for wisdom and guidance? I’m not talking about guys who pay/paid you tuition. I mean other teachers in the system. Do they follow your example? Do they ask for your advice? Do you teach them anything? Can you name all the Sifus in your lineage? Have you taught the Masters in your lineage? Do you have anything to offer them? Are they missing any information that only you can give them? Is there a general consensus among your system’s leadership that you are without a doubt THE Grandmaster? Look. I could create 10 websites calling myself King of America. I could write 200 articles declaring myself King of America. I could even convince a few guys that I am indeed the King. But if this country’s population and it’s leadership do not see me as King and follow me–I ain’t no King. Like in the Ali example, he called himself The Greatest, but then proved he was The Greatest, and then the entire boxing world crowned him King in their hearts. You want to be a leader? Act like a leader. Mediate arguments and conflicts between parties in your system. Promote the other Sifus in your system more than you promote yourself. If you really care about the art, you want everyone in the art to improve and you protect their reputations at all costs. One thing a Grandmaster does not do is whisper to students that a fellow Sifu or lower level Sifu “sucks”, and instead contacts that Sifu to offer assistance in improving his skill. You attend the functions of others in your art. you speak highly of them, and do your best to brag what great Kung Fu men exist in your system, because like a proud Grandfather–all his babies are beautiful and smart, even when some of them really aren’t. You must love the art and the people doing this art more than you love money, attention, praise, and reputation–and you spend the majority of your time developing everyone in your art to achieve greatness, even those who don’t pay you for lessons. This characteristic alone–99% of the people calling themselves “Grandmasters” FAIL.

You must have mastered the art. Many grandmasters put on great demonstrations. Most do not; they simply have excellent public relations. But there is a saying in the Philippine martial tradition that young fools don’t always become wise old men–many young fools grow up to become old fools. If you excelled at the art when you were young and continued excelling, you will eventually master the art. It is possible, however, that most mediocre young men grow old and self declare mastery while being mediocre old men. Mastery does not occur just because you get old. You must excel beyond your prime to approach mastery. Too often, martial artists drop off after being certified. Then they ride the reputation created as young men until their old age and want to be considered a master. But master in the martial arts is not a noun, it is a verb. You aren’t a martial arts Master until you master the art. And what is the difference between a person who is excellent at the art and one who has mastered it? At least a decade of intensive, deliberate practice. Too many mediocre martial artists rely on trophies and kudos from friends to be declared “good” at the art, and others simply remain mediocre and declare themselves confident. But the pursuit of excellence in the art takes a full-time, almost obsessive, deliberate effort for years alone to become excellent. And your friends cannot declare you to have excelled. This is a adversarial art. You excel in the art by convincing your opponents and adversaries that you have excelled. You can’t be a football team winning games alone. There must be an opponent on the other side trying to stop you. And have enough defeats of those opponents under your belt that your opponents say you’re good. When your competition says you’re good, you’re good. Now do that for a decade, and you must have improved in your tenth year several times over since your first year. Many of these Grandmasters have never stepped on the floor. Now I understand that not everyone wants to engage in combat. But if that’s the case, don’t teach it. And damn sure don’t claim to be an expert at it. Or declare yourself a master of it. Remember, you can spend 40 years practicing an art and never master it. Sure, you might be pretty good at it. But mastery is a very lonely level where you will have few peers. And once you have mastered the art–experts say 10,000 hours of deliberate practice and 20,000 repetitions of your skills–keep it up for another decade. Not everyone can stomach that, which is why most people are self-declared because they lack both the desire or the means to achieve it. I’m sure this rule will draw out a lot of detractors. But let me ask you. Your most basic form in your system. Have you performed it more than a thousand times in deliberate practice? If you want to be part of the elite, you must be willing to do what a very tiny elite are willing to do.

A Grandmaster has a vision for the art, and a plan to get there. Where do you see this system in 5 years? Is that goal a declared one? Is there a solidified mission statement that all Sifus and schools in your art can recite verbatim and are following? You can’t just sit in some shopping center kwoon or running around putting on demos while having no communication with the leadership in your system and call yourself a Grandmaster. Like it or not, if the Sifus in your art are not marching toward the goals that you set, you aren’t their Grandmaster. You cannot lead alone. Leadership of a system includes all the Sifus and assistants of at least most of the schools in your art. But most of these Grandmasters can’t even give you a list of all the schools offering their art in their country of residence. How can you be their grandmaster when you don’t even know where other schools in your system are and who is teaching classes there? The fake grandmaster doesn’t know where other schools are, doesn’t know who the other Sifus are, and honestly–don’t care. I have a Si Hing, I won’t put his name here because I haven’t gotten his permission. But he has kept tabs on me and all my Kung Fu brothers, even those of us he has never taught. He knows what we are up to. He praises us when we do well, he chews us out when we mess up. He is quick to contact us to correct or offer advice. He is a man of character, and most of us, if not all, are actually ashamed when we disappoint him. He never speaks ill of any of us, and even when he is mad at us–gives praise publicly. His school does things we are all proud of and admire, and he invites us to all his events and keeps us informed of anything he learns. And he does not require that we call him Master anything. In fact, he will sometimes insist that we are grown men and we address him by his first name. And in combat he can probably defeat all of us, although I know he would never try. That is a man with Grandmaster qualities. Many of us follow him more than we follow any of the other certified leadership in Jow Ga.

My word count has reached 2,200 so I will end here. You may think I have malice towards my brother, but I don’t. I have malice towards his actions. But the relationship is beyond disrepair, and I’m sure I may have lost some lifelong friends over my approach. But Jow Ga Blasphemy will never be tolerated on my watch. It is my sincere desire to see the leadership of Jow Ga in America rise to the occasion. My Sifu’s passing left a void. He was no Grandmaster. But he was a true Sifu, and although many of us a worthy Sifus in our own right, none of us have filled his shoes. Anytime you put a group of Tigers in the same cage, they will fight. But no one could enter that cage and bring down the pack. Jow Ga in America is, unlike the Kung Fu community of many countries, like a cage full of Tigers. It will take a very strong Tiger to lead this group. You’ll need more than self-declaration, and you’ll need real vision, wisdom and strength. Or you could sit back and call yourself the Greatest without stepping into the ring. Jow Ga does not need a grandmaster of any type. We lost our Si Gung and no one could replace him, but leadership would most certainly push Jow Ga to higher heights. On sheer numbers alone, we will grow the art–but not like it would with strong and focused leadership. Without the leadership, we will work independently and may or may not rise together. We lead to the best of our ability, we improve as much as we can on our own, and we police our own. I believe Jow Ga in America, like most Kung Fu families, would welcome strong leadership. And you don’t have to be old, you don’t have to be Chinese, you don’t need titles to be that leader. But if you want to be a Grandmaster, then fucking act like one. I have a plane to catch. Long live Jow Ga! Thank you for visiting the DC Jow Ga Federation.

This article is a shot out to the lifelong martial arts enthusiasts; those who love these arts and everything that goes with them. Those whose favorite personal items not souvenirs from a memorable vacation, but perhaps a weapon, favorite uniform, a lucky set of a sparring gear. Those who have heard the words from a significant other(s), “It’s me or your martial arts!” The guys who still perform stances and hand techniques anytime you find yourself alone–in a stairwell, the restroom, an empty elevator. You know who I’m talking about… all you weirdos who choose what you will wear based on your ability to move and kick, just in case a fight breaks out–and you are older than 35 years old. A nod to you folks who live, sleep, and breathe the martial arts, and you will do this until you die.

And I mean all of you, whether you train or not, whether you are in shape or not, whether you are simply an enthusiast or an actual practitioner. Hopefully, you will find some value in today’s musings.

So I was thinking about the topic of martial arts mastery, and there are many ways to treat the idea. They range from those who claim extreme humility to the point that they actually consider it a character flaw (arrogance, insecurity, etc.) to pursue mastery, to those who pursue it, claim it, make it a life goal. There are those who consider “Master” a level or rank to achieve within a martial arts curriculum; and then you have those who don’t acknowledge Masters as people, but only “to master” as an action verb. We can argue all day about what a master is or isn’t, whether it exists or doesn’t, who gets to determine who masters are and if mastery can be declared on a piece of paper or not. For the sake of space, I will leave you to do that on social media (or in the comments section of this article). Today we will treat mastery as a thing, whether it is a noun, adjective, adverb, verb, or title.

There is a saying that there is no point in pursuing an endeavor if you cannot do it right. If you’re going to do something, they say, be the best, do it to the best of your ability. If you are going to teach, you’d better have done it well. That seems to be the point of Kung Fu. The martial arts is not just an endeavor, it is a specialty. It is what you have put forth an effort to do, and do well. If we look at the martial arts from a combative context, in order to be effective we must do the martial arts well enough that we can overcome the opponent. In a self-defense and combat situation, casual practice does not help the defender. The attacker without a doubt is determined and will use all of his effort in hurting you or taking what you have. As the defender you will do the same, but your chance of success depends on how much training you have done, whether it was spent on effective techniques, and if the result of doing so is more skill than your attacker. Give your attacker a weapon, and you will need to have more skill, more strength, more speed, more fearlessness, more accuracy, more aggression, and more pain tolerance. Not just more–but enough that you walk away unhurt. It is possible that you can successfully defend yourself, but walk away with an injury that disables or kills you later. Because of this very real need in the martial arts, I would argue strongly that casual practice in the martial arts is a waste of time for most of us, outside of the need to stay in shape.

That said, the focus in the pugilistic arts should be a never-ending effort to improve the practitioner. You should progressively become stronger, faster, more alert/aware, smarter, have better timing, develop more endurance, understand more strategies and techniques, learn more attack methods and how to counter them, become more durable, become more explosive, more evasive and agile, have better balance, learn to use more weapons, learn to fight against more weapons, be able to fight off more attackers… and the list goes on. In every style, there are more techniques than any martial artist can develop to a high level of proficiency. There are more weapons than one can learn, and learn well. You must do more than simply learn and practice; you must develop to a high level, if your concern is combat and self-defense. Attackers are not looking for a fair fight. They are looking for an unfair advantage over their intended victims, they will attack one person or a couple in groups. They will carry weapons. They will surprise you and attack from angles you do not see. They will catch you when you are not ready. They will attack your children. They will be brutal in their attack. If you or your wife are knocked unconscious, they will not hesistate to continue to beat on your lifeless, defenseless bodies. They will hit you with a brick, cut you with a bottle or knife, shoot you at point-blank range. Your casual martial arts practice which leaves you with soft arms and no endurance will do nothing against a seasoned criminal who may have spent the last 10 years in prison pumping iron. Your martial arts skills should reflect more than what you did on your last rank exam or what the presenter in your seminars taught. You need dominant skill, and more ability than anything you may encounter on the street, or worse–in your own home at 2 a.m., when calling 9-1-1 is not an option.

And this is where the argument of if mastery of the art is an “arrogant” goal, a realistic goal, or a valid goal. Please understand this, whatever you had in mind for advanced or expert skill–mastery is beyond that. Whatever you saw in front of you last night in martial arts class isn’t enough; mastery is way beyond that. No offense to your Sifus, but mastery of the art is a never-ending, always increasing degree of skill. Whatever is realized today can always be surpassed tomorrow. In many ways, mastery of the martial arts is perfection of the martial arts. Most of us have this confused. They believe martial arts mastery is time-in-grade; it is not. Some think mastery is something we achieve after training with other masters. Some believe it is based on how well you speak Cantonese or Mandarin, or at a minimum use Chinese terms. Some confuse the ability to perform a great form or a variety of ceremonies with “mastery” of the art. Martial arts mastery and perfection has nothing to do with how often you traveled to China and Japan, what certificates you hang from your walls, how many forms you know, how many trophies are in your collection, or who has celebrated you and your accomplishments. Martial arts mastery as an art of combat only depends on the same thing your enemies will worry about: Can you take on and defeat any attacker, regardless of the odds? Can you keep your family safe in a home invasion robbery? Can you teach a 120 pound woman to defend herself against a 250 pound man? Can your skills keep you alive in a near-death situation with an attacker who only cares to take what you have, including your life, and will use everything at his disposable to do so–and you have nothing but your hands to stop him? Yes, we build healthy children, prolong our lives through fitness and living right, respecting the Chinese culture and becoming better people, blah blah blah, quack quack quack… that is a different conversation. Today, we are discussing how far you can take these arts as a form of self preservation and defending yourself and your family. There is a level of martial arts that most people don’t even realize exists, and that is it. It is the ability to give the human body a superhuman level of ability. And this journey is what I call the path to mastery; to push the self as far as it goes as a weapon. This path isn’t for everyone.

Many of us, when we first undertook the martial arts lifestyle, wanted this. We may have seen a martial arts movie that intrigued us. Perhaps we read a comic book and aspired to become a Batman or real-world Iron Fist. So, what happened? We came into the arts enthusiastic to become martial arts supermen. But here we are, 15 year later, satisfied to read about the martial arts on the internet with only a fraction of the skills we once dreamed of. Many of us have dared to call ourselves Sifu–or worse, Master. Most of us have even gone so far that while we once daydreamed about being able to defend ourselves against weapon-wielding attackers, we now tell our students that fighting is not the purpose of Kung Fu and that they can be “good” at the martial arts without having “good” fighting skills.Where did we go wrong?

I’ll give you a shortlist of possibilities:

You found out how difficult it is to pursue real skill in the martial arts. Many of us thought this art was going to be easy. Maybe some thought the art might be difficult, but didn’t realize HOW difficult it would be. Like the wolf who couldn’t jump high enough to eat the grapes, decided it was easier to chase land animals and assume that grapes were probably sour–it’s so difficult to pursue perfection in the martial arts, it would be easier to simply dismiss perfection as something that does not exist

Your teacher was not one who wanted martial arts perfection, so perhaps he changed your focus in the art. I’ve known Sifus like this. One in particular had a student who was enthusiastically in pursuit of combat skill. My friend was more of a casual practitioner with a school and lacked fighting skill himself, and I’ve seen him chastize his student for being too aggressive and concerned with sparring. So because of his own insecurities in the art, he extinguished the student’s fire for more

Speaking of insecurities–I have personally known many Sifus who were not fighters, so they discouraged student participation in sparring. They feared fighting so much, they only fighting they did was with each other–and some didn’t even do that

On the other end of the spectrum, there are those who came into the martial arts with “natural ability”. I don’t believe in the term natural ability, btw… Many come to the martial arts with athletic ability from other activities, while others are either more agile, more flexibility, or stronger. These individuals learn and develop quickly, and are told they are “good” at the art without having to put forth much effort. The result? If they stick with it, they will either become mediocre instructors or they bring that “good” skill into instructorship. However, because they never had to work hard, they don’t. They’ve never learned to train hard, so they maintain the same level ability they had as students and never improve from that. Satisfied with being good at the martial arts and being complimented by everyone around them–this betrays their pursuit for more

The other outcome of the good martial arts student is that he becomes lazy. Some of these Sifus get to enjoy the reputation they had as students and young men. So as they get older, they find that they must work more diligently to maintain those skills. Unfortunately, very few of these naturally gifted martial arts students remain so as adults and they end up out of shape and with poor skill, yet have the rhetoric and disposition of a Sifu who has earned his rank.

You discover shortcuts to mastery: political affiliations, hall of fame organizations, use of martial arts media, seminar ranks, creation of one’s own system, or simply strapping on the title and keeping friends who validate it

In my old school I had two sayings stencils on my wall (among others):

Good is the enemy of Great

Laziness is the opposite of Perfection

Many of us have stopped short of these goals, which perhaps 1% of us will ever see. It exists. But don’t do it for the title, do it for the enemy. Because there are many of them out there, and you never know when you may meet him. Don’t do it for ego. Don’t do it for business. Don’t do it for certificates. Do it for those you love. Your family is depending on you, and your life as well as their life depends on it.

This weekend I had a very long conversation with my younger Kung Fu brother, whom I will not name unless he gives me permission to do so. Despite talking for more than 3 hours, there were many topics we must finish discussing–and trust me, we covered a lot.

In the course of our lengthy discussion, he declared an admiration for my generation and our commitment to excellence and preservation of our skills. I have noticed a difference between our generation and not just his generation of Jow Ga men–but his generation of Kung Fu men in general.

And before feelings get hurt, please do not take offense to anything I may state in this article. My intentions are pure and nonjudgmental. They are only observations and opinions, although I do often state my opinions as fact. I think after four decades of practicing, applying, and teaching the art, anyone with opinion deserves the right to make such declarations. To keep it simple, we will make a bulleted list of points.

My generation was the tail end of the generation of fanatics, from the. 70s into the 80s. We are the guys who slept, drink and ate Kung Fu. We had few distractions, and were naiive enough to think that we could live a life of not much more than practicing martial arts and dying. Today’s martial artist is preoccupied with social media, image, current fads, chasing celebrity teachers, pursuing add-on arts through self study and seminar, political connections, etc. My generation only trained and fought.

Blame that first point on the economy or whatever, but there were many of us who were able to do that for years. I recall students coming to the Kung Fu school during the summer and working out from early in the morning until classes began in the evening. Weekends all year long were spent that way, taking a break for lunch and Black Belt Theater. Today’s martial arts student trains in a business. Some of our Sifus lived in our schools, or close by. Today’s Sifu commutes to the school like he’s going to the office. So sleepovers in the Kwoon? Eating and napping in the Kwoon? Inviting guys from other schools over for an impromtu fight night? In your dreams, buddy. Now get out, I have an intro coming in ten minutes…

Today’s students know too much for their britches. They read websites and books and will create their own arts in their backyards and garages. They go online to these discussion forums on Facebook and get advice from other pencil-necks like “Go check him him out and see if his Tong Long is legit”. Right, so you, a beginner, are qualified to look at a master’s Kung Fu and determine if he is skilled or knowledgeable–but you want to sign up for lessons? Laughable. And I see these discussions every day

My generation’s students usually only learned from one teacher all the way through to instructorship. This may not sound like much to a guy who is used to seeing “experts” with a 10-artlong resume, but compare a guy who trained with his Sifu for several hours a day, every day, for 7, 8 years vs a guy who flew to Hong Kong once a year or did 3 seminars with a well known master like Chiu Chi Ling and now he’s claiming the Tailor as his Hung Gar Sifu. There is no comparison, and we won’t even bother having a debate about it

The Kung Fu student of yesteryear often was encouraged to seek out non-TCMA styles to prove our effectiveness and build our school’s reputation. Today’s student goes to Chinese only tournaments, fights in a division with often 5 or 10 (I’ve been to tournaments with fewer) competitors and walks out claiming to be a “National Champion”. I know guys touted as National Champions with fewer than 20 fights total. At the same time, I and some of my brothers have several hundred fights in our careers

While many genres of martial arts have evolved to fit the times, there is a trend today to keep the Chinese arts ancient. This desire to remain authentic has resulted in the Chinese martial arts (again) become stagnant, irrelevent relics. Several classic TCMA texts written a hundred years ago chastized Kung Fu practitioners against this. The most famous TCMA school in recent times, Jing Wu, was founded on staying relevant. They skipped rope, practiced western boxing, wore military outfits and trained in track suits, and distinguished between modern self defense and classical martial arts theory. Today’s Sifu runs around in robes and puts more effort into learning Cantonese terms than he does testing his art against non-TCMA. Students who follow such leadership will lose what I call the “Killer Factor”. The type of student who is concerned with anything other than the Killer Factor will be one who trains casually. And herein lies the difference…

And we arrive at the point of this article. The Killer Factor. What is it?

The Killer Factor is a part of the Chinese martial arts that very few school have. It is a combination of identifying what techniques are most destructive, how to stop the most destructive techniques, how to develop the most destructive skills, putting those skills to the test against unfriendly opponents, and developing hands and feet that can actually do the damage you want done. Guys with the Killer Factor can break boards, cinder blocks, and bricks. Today’s Kung Fu guys say stuff like “hand conditioning gives you joint problems” and “boards don’t hit back”…

A martial arts school stuck on aesthetics will never reach the point that their students learn to kill a man–or how to stop a man from killing him. Most martial artists I’ve met aren’t even comfortable discussing this subject. I had a feud a few years back with a martial artist in Tennessee, who threatened to kick my ass. My cousin answered the message and offered to fight him in my place, since he lived in Tennessee. After no response, my cousin went to the school and the police were called on him. His dojo brothers on the West Coast offered to do the same–fight me by proxy–and I was asked to leave the community center they were teaching in when I went to accept the offer. This is the state of today’s martial artist. No Killer Factor. Hell, these guys don’t even have the Bloody Nose Factor. You see although we were around the same age, this was a clash of old school versus new school; those guys talked about it, but my cousin and I lived it. As outdated as that may sound, there are very few martial artists in the new generation who can walk as warriors. They prefer to use the rhetoric.

And the easiest part of the Killer Factor is something that most martial artists lack the stomach to do: To spend entire days training; to practice hand conditioning for 20-30 minutes a day religiously, to perform thousands of repetitions of strikes and blocks and kicks every week, possibly every *weekend*, to develop a hard body, a stone level of courage, and enough humility to put one’s reputation on the line on a regular basis. My Kung Fu brother was advised not to fight in tournaments in case he lost because he had students. My brothers in my generations would go and win some, but even better–lose some every month, and still go back to fight the following month.

And 30 years later, many of us have kept our skills while others have deteriorated by the age of 31. Picture a trained killer and how he might treat his martial arts skills. Compare it to how you train. Now modify how you approach the martial arts until you are doing what you’d imagine a trained killer does. It’s nothing more than philosophy, and it’s that simple.

Say no to costumes and affiliations and long resumes, and say yes only to the effort to become dominant and unbeatable. Good luck. Thank you for visiting the DC Jow Ga Federation.

Today, we will talk about a lover of art of writing, named George Foreman. George was a big, strong man. Known for his brute strength (he enjoyed boxing in his spare time), George loved calligraphy and studied all styles. Unlike many artists, George was able to move his money around and finance his love of calligraphy by getting a part time job prize fighting. This part time job he had forced him to wake up at 5 am to work out and occasionally travel to beat people up–but mostly he was able to spend his days practicing his calligraphy. Of the many things George enjoyed doing, the one thing he loved to write most was his name: “George Foreman, esquire”… “Love, Peace, and SOUL! –George Foreman”… “To Whom It May Concern, George Foreman”….

In fact, George loved writing his name so much, he named all of of sons “George Foreman”. There was George Foreman, Jr., George Foreman II, George Foreman III, and so on. And as any self-respecting calligrapher would do, George taught each boy how to write his name in the most beautiful way. Now, each son was born at a different time in George’s life. So when that child was old enough to learn to write, he was taught to sign in his name a little differently than the last son. Each son was taught to write in whatever style George was practicing at the time of his education. As the years passed, George’s signature was a little different as he developed more skill, acquired more knowledge, and changed his fancies. Each son, although they were all named George and had learned from the same loving father, slightly wrote his name differently than his brother. And on top of that, each son had his own ideas about how to write his name. Each boy loved his father, shared his father’s passion about writing, including relying on beating people up for income so he could spend his days writing his name.

Now the story takes a twist. George’s sons are all grown, but then each son names his sons “George Foreman”. Some of the sons teach their sons how to write; others send their sons to their father. In the end, we have in total, 21 men named “George Foreman”, and although they represent different generations, share the same name, drank from the same fountain, learned from the same source–each one writes his name slightly different from the next. And no one can duplicate exactly the (now) Grandfather’s signature.

End of story.

But translate this story to martial artists learning a style of fighting from their fathers instead of writing–we would have feuds, family fragments, brothers disowning each other, brothers denying each other–while everyone around them thinks to themselves, “But you all are named George, you all LOOK like your Dad, and you all write your name pretty much the same way!” Boy, are we a nutty bunch.

From the outside in, most styles look pretty much the same. Of course there are nuances and differences, but if you took ten lineages of Wing Chun and put them in a room with ten lineages of Praying Mantis, ten lineages of Tae Kwon Do, and ten lineages of Choy Lay Fut–one could easily pick out who belonged to the generic groups of WC, PM, TKD, and CLF. I don’t know if anyone has mentioned it, my Kung Fu brothers, but those “differences” are so minute you might as well classify each other by whose eyebrows is longer. One would push their perspective styles further if they actually celebrated the differences rather than bicker over them. Because like old George’s 20 sons and grandsons–they are all named George, and they have more in common than they do different to each other.

Each teacher of each lineage of each system will have his own purpose in the art. He will have his own specialties in the system. He will have his own goals. He will have his own strengths and weaknesses. He will fancy one part of the system, while another will prefer another. One may enjoy the lion dance, while another enjoys combat, and another likes short forms, and another prefers weapons. My uncle once chastized me for passing judgment on a cousin’s lifestyle by telling me that as long as they wish to remain a member of this family, we have PLENTY of room on this family tree. We must accept that anyone who does not wish harm or shame on the family should always be welcome at the table come dinner time. Plus, those differences actually makes our Kung Fu experience much richer. Imagine if students joined a school and system, but found that the Kung Fu was only done one way. If one of George’s sons was left handed, but George only allow his sons to write with the right hand… many of us run our schools this way. My way is the only way.

A full family tree with uncles and aunts who specialize in nearly everything a student could want to learn can only breed the best martial arts students. In my own lineage of Jow Ga, we have instructors who are police officers, former kickboxers, community activists, entrepreneurs, doctors, scientists, boxers, restaurateurs, actors, musicians, dancers, photographers, artists… you name it. Whether a student would like to talk to Kung Fu elders about careers or just their own unique take on the system–students have an entire community of Sifu with his or her own experiences with the art whether we are talking about Jow Ga expressed through the eyes of a fighter, a businessman, or community pillar. On top of that, each teacher learned Jow Ga in a different context than other family members. Some Sifu have only studied Jow Ga under our late Master Chin and have possibly a purer view of his art. Some came through other styles and express their Jow Ga with the influence of that previous art. Some Sifu have used their Jow Ga in the ring, others in streetfights, others while working security or as a police officer subduing criminals. Without a doubt, each of these Sifu have his own expression. Some of us learned From Master Chin as a young teacher in the 1960s and 70s, while others learned from him before his death in the 80s after experiencing martial arts over three decades. Some were big, strong men, while others were small and quick. Some were athletic, others used the art to live healthier. And each of these experiences gave the practitioner a different view and application of the Jow Ga.

Now fast-forward to the present time. A new student joins the art under one Sifu. He learns his Sifu’s special way of executing Jow Ga for several years, and is now himself a new Sifu. What’s next? Stop learning and go open a school? Join a different style and explore what else the TCMA community has to offer?

How about seek out Kung Fu uncles and aunts and learn their expressions of the same art. What a great way to dig deeper into the art you already paid your dues to, than to find out what others have discovered through the same style. There is so much in each system of Kung Fu, it is impossible to explore and develop everything. On one hand, you could go study the staff with your Si Bok who specialized in the staff, learn sparring with your Si Sook who was a great fighter, train with another Si Sook who was an excellent kicker. On another hand, you could communicate with one Si Bok who uses his Kung Fu to impact local politics and rescue at-risk children, another Si Bok who has learned to make a good living with creative ways to teach Kung Fu, and another Si Bok who uses his Kung Fu to teach weight control and another who uses it to teach healing.

I have long told my students here in California that my only regret as a Jow Ga Sifu is that I am too far from Washington, DC, to send my students to see their elder Kung Fu uncles–who have a very different experience as well as expression of the same art I teach. I truly believe that I have given my students the best Jow Ga I can, but it is still inferior to the Jow Ga I could give them if I augment my instruction with lessons from each of my seniors…

“The success of a CEO should be determined by the number of people he trained that can surpass him. If someone warns me about an employee who is trying to overstep me, I reply that I’m a teacher, and that’s the way it should be.”

— Jack Ma, April 2014

Bottom line, Kung fu family: Don’t raise your students in a vacuum. Your system, whatever it is, has a family tree that is rich with valuable information. It is impossible for you to know all and be proficient at all. Tap into that bank vault of knowledge and bring those lessons to your students, so that they could reap the benefit of a large, close-knit family who can teach your students many ways to look at your respective systems, skills, you do not fancy, experiences you do not have. Jack Ma once said the goal of a teacher is to make sure that his students surpass him. So much wisdom in that. Bury the hatchet, swallow your pride, join hands with Kung Fu brothers you may have barely met or hadn’t seen in years, work with those distant Kung Fu relatives, exchange techniques, ideas and skills and give your students the most concentrated, potent martial arts experience you can. I have seen a family of Kung Fu schools from the same lineage, in the same city all die in separate martial arts schools because they did not work together. I’ve witnessed a once excellent Kung Fu school put out only the highest level of martial arts competitors now promote weak Sifus because the students had a falling out with their teacher. Five fingers spread apart can at most only make a temporary sting. But ball those fingers tightly into a watertight, airtight fist–and you can possibly break rocks with that same hand.

Every teacher of every generation of a system will have his own signature in that system. Be the teacher whose students can “write his name” 10,000 different ways.

Something about the evolution of martial arts styles should be discussed among Kung Fu folks… the argument that leads to fractured lineages and disputes among classmates and training brothers. It is this:

We must understand that styles evolve and change, and anyone who is committed to promoting the system is free and qualified to do so.

What an arrogant and misguided notion for one classmate to lay claim to a system and deny his own classmates the privilege of enjoying it themselves. Most disputes among the same members of a lineage originate with this. There are many paths up a mountain, and how foolish to think that the path you walked or discovered is the only legitimate path up that mountain. However, we have seen through many controversies in the Chinese martial arts, men who once called each other “brother” challenging each other’s legitimacy in public–even claiming that they hold the only “true” teaching of their beloved system and/or teacher. A good example of this is to watch the Wing Chun controversies, where men from the same Master–yet differing periods–claim their own training brothers to be “incomplete” or illegitimate experts of that style. Men will say these things, even when they’ve witnessed with their own two eyes–that classmate training and devoting himself to the system. Perhaps one of the most offensive accusations to make on a classmate is to challenge a classmate publicly about their qualifications and knowledge. The only thing worse, is to do so in private–among outsiders to your system.

So what causes this betrayal? Why do people who once loved and liked each other do this? Is it ego?

I believe it is not as deep. Most of the time, I believe those who sit on all sides of such arguments truly believe they are right. In the Filipino Arts, I have seen generations of one Master separate and disassociate with each other simply because each believed he was in the best generation or the favorite student. It reminds me of when my own grandfather died, I immediately rushed to his house to “protect” his belongings from my cousins–who came to retrieve pictures, favorite items like his watches, trophies and awards… It was my father’s words that made me realize how foolish I had been. He told me that each of my cousins were entitled to the same sentimental items I treasured and that we all mourned and wanted a piece of him to remember him by. I foolishly believed that I was his favorite grandson. Days later, after the funeral–through conversations with my cousins I realized that my grandfather made ALL of us feel like we were the favorite grandsons. It’s what grandfathers do. They love us, and teach us, and tell us how we acted or looked just like our fathers at our age. They give us stories and anecdotes from their past in the hopes that we learn from their experiences and become more successful than they were. Is this not what a Kung Fu teacher does? Motivate, teach and protect us? Make each student feel like he or she was “Master” quality material? In my generation, we had one older brother, Sifu Craig Lee, who seemed to be the perfect Jow Ga specimen–his skill was flawless, and all of the younger guys wanted to do forms and fight as well as he could. When I trained, I would look in the mirror and try to emulate him as much as possible. Sifu would come around after class to see me training, sweating my ass off, and tell me, “Keep training because one day, you’re going to be just like Craig…” Forget Bruce Lee–us boys wanted to fight like Craig. Well I would discover, years after my Sifu died, that Sifu told us all that we would become just like Craig. I often heard a complaint that Sifu showed favoritism–but that’s what good teachers do. They make each student feel like he was the favorite. In the case of that FMA Master, it was just that. He told each Master under him that he was a Grandmaster quality fighter, and unfortunately when he died–each guy tried to step up and claim to be the ONE Grandmaster. Just like grandfathers, if he did his job right–each of us will grow up feeling special.

Yesterday while online, I saw yet another example of family disputes stemming from misunderstanding. The students of several Wing Chun Masters were bickering about whose version of Wing Chun was truer to late Grandmaster Yip Man’s. A neutral poster attempted to solve the dispute by saying that “Ip Man taught everyone differently…” He had made a great point. If a master has done his job right, he will teach everyone differently. No one says that Kung Fu should only be done one way. Only fools believe that. It is like the argument among English speakers about who has an accent. Aussies tell Americans they talk funny. Texans tell Bostonians they talk funny. Californians believe they speak plain old English, but New Yorkers and Brits have accents. And so on. But the reality is that everyone speaks English, and depending on where you’re from and what your background is–each will speak that language in their own way. Kung fu is no different. One man joins a school at 40 years old having been athletic his entire life. His classmate, an 18 year old overweight boy, joins the school the same month. Both will learn the same system, but do their Kung Fu differently than a small girl who joined when she was 6 and is now 17. All will be different than a 35 year old security guard who joined the school to enhance his skills for his job–as they will from the 50 year old student who joined just to lose weight. Are any of these students doing a lesser version of their Sifu’s art? Will any of them be unqualified to teach their Sifu’s art in ten years just because he learned differently than his/her training brothers? Sifu may have taught each student according to their attributes, their reason for studying, and what that Sifu felt would benefit the student most. Yip Man taught over many decades, and he taught many, many students. Of course he taught different students and different generations differently. But are they, or are they not, all Yip Man students?

And there is yet another dynamic to this discussion. A Kung Fu master who has dedicated his life to the furthering and improvement of the system will himself evolve. A Sifu who sees Kung Fu in his 50s the same way he saw Kung Fu in his 20s has wasted 30 years of his life. When we are young, we have our biases, our insecurities, and perhaps many flaws. As a 23 year old school owner, I was somewhat hot headed and a very selfish teacher. I can admit now that I was not a good teacher then. My mind at the time was one three things–tournament fighting, women, and money. I drove sports cars, drank in bars, womanized, and would fight regular guys who didn’t stand a chance–just to brag that I had done so. As a result, I alienated some martial arts friends who had outgrown me, and lost students who felt I represented the art poorly. I did. I have known martial artists who sold drugs, scammed people out of money, sold pornography, owned strip clubs–you name it. Over time, most of us have changed and outgrew our ignorant selves and became teachers the community could admire. Some did not. Many are still teaching. A good teacher will offer an evolving art if you stick with him through the generations. I’ve known Sifus who have talked students out of going to college in order to stay home and “be a Kung Fu man”, as if this were all one needed to survive in the modern world. I’ve seen Sifus who have lured young men away from home to provide free labor in struggling martial arts schools while they lined their pockets up with what little money was made. We cannot blame a man for his past–but if he has not evolved 20 years later and is still doing the same thing, there is a major problem. As a result, the martial arts I taught when I was 23 is vastly different, and with a different philosophy, than the martial arts I taught at 43.

The same goes for technique. A Sifu who teaches in his 20s has not seen much nor experienced much. The art he passes in his classes will be superficial and under-researched. This is not to say that the quality of the Kung Fu is poor. The Kung Fu knowledge is just not going to be profound. But every decade or so, his art should have evolved into newer versions; Sifu has seen the art he teaches in action through his students. He will tweak things here and there. He may modify what techniques are in his curriculum–or how those techniques are applied. A Sifu who comes from a city without much competition may teach an uninspired, unchanged art–but when he relocates to a larger city where his students are now competing against many other styles, his system should include new test results and modifications. He should even have alternative applications that did not exist when his art was not being challenged by these strange systems. Perhaps in China, the art was aesthetically pleasing–but when it got to Taiwan, the Sifu needed to urbanize his Kung Fu to deal with muggers armed with knives and guns. When Sifu arrived in America, he needed to arm his students to deal with western boxers and bigger, taller opponents than in both China and Taiwan. So students in China look at Taiwan brothers and wonder why their Kung Fu looks strange. Both Chinese students and Taiwanese students are looking at Sifu’s American students thinking, “What the heck is that? Sifu didn’t teach that stuff!” Arts evolve. As the master ages, he will add new knowledge and experience. He may modify his Kung Fu to match the needs of different students. His training methods may change with newly developed technology and trends. But aren’t they all legitimate?

And if Kung Fu was all supposed to stay intact, shouldn’t we all be doing the same art that was created hundreds of years ago–rather than the many styles we see today? Food for thought.

Today’s post is brought to you, compliments of your Southeasternly neighbor, the Filipino Martial Arts (FMAs). In case you are one of the few who have never been exposed to the Filipino Martial Arts, take a look on YouTube at it. The term “Filipino martial arts” can refer to any number of styles from the Philippines ranging from weapons-based styles–which we are known for (I’m speaking as a Filipino right now)–to boxing arts, to our own lineages of Chinese martial arts, which have evolved in the Philippines for the last few centuries into arts with Chinese names but little semblance to their origin. A few characteristics that you may find with the Filipino arts that are quite unlike those of other countries:

Filipino arts traditionally have no forms. Most Filipino arts are sparring-based, and this is perhaps the main difference that makes FMAs unique. Because of the emphasis on sparring, many of the practices that restrict fighting ability do not exist in the FMA. For example, while a gripe about TCMAs is that tournaments lack fighting divisions–most Filipino tournaments are sparring tournaments that do not have forms divisions

Filipino practitioners are not bound by tradition or strict adherence to custom. The grouping of techniques into stick/blade/empty hand is blurred. Often styles will start out teaching empty hand techniques and then draw a knife. FMA practitioners will spar stick versus knife, two weapons versus one, one opponent versus two, etc. The unpredictability of the streets is brought into classroom training

FMA systems are created and practiced by the common man, rather than isolated groups of monks and warriors

Every new generation of FMAs will evolve from the last. Teachers are not expected to keep curriculums and techniques intact. Nearly every school owner has created his own method, although he may keep the name of his teacher’s art–innovation and blending is acceptable and encouraged

The practice of challenging is not frowned upon in the Filipino arts. A teacher who does not have challenges under his belt is not considered “polite”, he is considered “inexperienced”. While many masters will talk of past teachers and classmates–Filipino teachers often speak of sparring partners and rivals

Speaking of rivals, many masters’ rivals are not lifelong enemies as in other styles; rivals often become co-founders, friends, or even the inspiration for a whole new art. Two good examples of such are the rivalry between US-based, late pioneers Angel Cabales and Leo Giron–whose rivalry lasted a lifetime and history is peppered with many matches (which exists even to this day); and Katatapado, a Filipino long-stick system created just to defeat Eskrima, the dominant weapons art of the Philippines

Emphasis on footwork rather than stance work. In fact, most FMA styles do not have stances

FMA styles are almost the opposite of the Chinese arts, but some of those differences can be used to benefit Kung Fu fighters. Let’s explore some of them:

FMA footwork is similar to boxing footwork, in that FMA styles are more mobile that our northernly neighbors. This practice of being in perpetual motion is considered “alive” feet, versus “dead” feet that are heavy and flat footed. This may first appear to put fighters at a disadvantage because of a lack of stability. However, because of the heavy presence of blades, including the possibility for blades to be produced during a fight–FMA fighters are light footed other than times that power is needed for finishing blows. There are no set stances in most styles, so students practice attacking/advancing, retreating/withdrawing, side-stepping/flanking as much as a Kung Fu student would practice stances. Footwork is also heavily integrated with weapons practice. While stance training and footwork is considered a “beginner’s” skill in Kung Fu–even advanced FMA students practice footwork every class. This emphasis on movement does tire out the fighter more, but also produces a more agile, evasive, quicker, and fit fighter–with quickers reflexes. Watch a few rounds of Eskrima sparring and you will see how the emphasis on movement and speed can heighten the senses of your students. How can this be integrated with Kung Fu? Limit stance holding to lower ranking levels, but once strength is built in your students’ legs–switch your emphasis to movement. The goal is to make your students difficult to escape from, but equally difficult to catch. It is not necessary to neglect strength training or other skills, but giving your fighters the gift of superior mobility will insure that they will catch and opponent they are attacking while being difficult to hit when attacked. Footwork, then, is not to be an additional skill; footwork should be an integrated skill. Meaning, there is no “Footwork” Day. Every day is footwork day. Each time you drill a skill–whether you are training punches, blocks, even dagger and sword skills–find a way to incorporate footwork.

Also, let us say here, that in speaking of “mobility”, we are not trying to get Kung Fu students to practice while doing the “Ali Shuffle”. It’s so much more than that! By mobility, we mean that your students should not practice in a fighting stance where they are a sitting duck. Look at the average Kung Fu class, you will see lines of students in a perfect formation. Everyone has a dot they are standing on, and no one leaves that dot. Whether doing jumping jacks, punching, kicking–everyone in class has a spot, and that student is encouraged to stay in his place. When fighting, there is a little movement, but it is unnatural as Kung Fu students are trained to set down in stances and not move. A sniper-fighter’s dream opponent. (Edit: In case you were wondering, a sniper-fighter is an aggressive attacker who attacks quickly and violently) Train without movement, your students will find much difficulty when it is time to move, regardless if he is attacking or defending. When training for mobility, you must decide whether the technique you are training is being used as an attack, a defense or a flanking technique. For example, the basic punch in the Kung Fu classroom can either be done in a Horse, Bow, or sparring stance, and that’s about it. Yet in the FMA classroom, the punch is designated an attacking-punch (your student is the attacker), a defensive punch (your student is punching when attacked), or a flanking punch (student steps off-line and punches, whether initiating the attack or not)–and each has it’s own footwork movements. Make this one change to how you run your classes–within months you will see a great improvement in sparring ability.

For the sake of space, let’s end here, but I’d like to give you a few things to think about:

footwork can be used to lure the opponent into traps. a mongoose attack, for example, named for the Philippine mongoose, uses a retreat to get the opponent to follow–and then attack when the opponent is mid-stride while following you

advancing on the opponent can be more than just moving forward to get close to the opponent. advance on the opponent to upset his balance (difficult to keep balance while moving backward), run the opponent into unstable ground (off sidewalks, etc.), or into barriers (walls, furniture, or the ropes of a boxing ring)

keeps even an opponent with the strongest stance off-balance, as your movement can force him to leave his stance and follow or move. this makes him vulnerable to attack

cut off an opponent’s movement. study movement, and plan two or three steps ahead so that if he continues in the direction he is moving–he moves right into the direction of your next attack

can be used to make an opponent miss. practice what you can do if the opponent misses an attack. this MUST be incorporated into training. many styles plan for follow ups if the opponent blocks, but what about throwing an attack, allowing the opponent to block you, then waiting for his counter, and then firing on him after you make him miss? in the FMA this is called “counter-the-counter”, something I have not seen in any style besides the Filipino art other than Wing Chun–and even Wing Chun does not have techniques to make an opponent miss his attack

for those who enjoy fighting from a strong stance–you could use movement to set up that strong launching position. move to force the opponent into a place where you want him. land into position while he is still moving by moving quicker–and then firing on him as he arrives to a position you were waiting for

There is still much more to add to this subject, but we will put up another article in the near future. We hope you found something useful! Thank you for visiting the DC Jow Ga Federation.

In case you forgot to take a look at the link I embedded above, here is a clip of a tournament. Enjoy!

The folks over at New York Sanda have an article appropriately entitled “Why Can’t Johnny Fight?” When you get a chance, I recommend you mosey over there and take a look at their blog–which have lots more good information besides just that article. I enjoyed the article, which is addressing a theme we repeat often on this site–that Kung Fu people have to engage in combat and combat training more than we have been doing. Every TCMA community has its heavy hitters. But the problem is that each local Chinese martial arts community only has one or two. Now if you compare the percentage of Kung Fu schools to other styles that are known for being superior in fighting and self defense, you’ve got to admit that we are terribly lacking. And please spare us the speech about martial arts not being for fighting (or the one I like so much about you having nothing to prove). You know and we know it. We just don’t talk about it.

In a nutshell, Sifu Ross is referring to this tournament, called the “Tru to Form” format which in its defense is an attempt to get Kung Fu fighters to use the techniques in their respective systems in fighting. Sifu Kristoff Clarke gave a passionate speech at a tournament that went viral in the martial arts community a few years back, and most people agree with him. When you compare competitors at a tournament, very few show any signs of the systems they are supposed to be representing. Why do you suppose–if these arts are indeed practical–do Kung Fu stylists do boxing, Muay Thai and Jujitsu when they fight? Is it because those arts don’t work? I don’t think so. I think it’s something much simpler; in my opinion, many of the folks who are teaching have not explored their arts enough to see, not if they work, but how they work.

Let’s use an analogy. We have Mike, a landloving beach nut who’s never actually been to the beach. He’s read all kinds of books about what goes on the beach. He collects all sorts of fishing rods, swimwear, surfboards, and what not. He has watched all the movies about divers, swimmers, tunes into the Olympics, can describe all types of swimming strokes and marine life… you name it. Only thing is, Mike has never been to the beach. He did go to the river one time, got in and got water up his nose. Never again, he swears, this shit was not fun–plus, this isn’t like, a real beach. The river sucks. He is so enamored with the beach, he listens only to the Beach Boys, walks around town in his swim shorts and goggles, and will argue how that one Navy Seals movie is fake because the actors they used aren’t even real sailors. He is as true a Beach Bum as one has ever known.

But one day, Mike gets to fulfill his dream. He moves to the ocean and opens a swim school, which also has a well-equipped beginner-to-pro fishing program. One day, he takes his advanced swimming class to the ocean for a popular race.

Not only does Mike’s students LOSE the race, half of them nearly drown.

(Story over)

So what went wrong? Did Mike not study the right swimmers? Were his students the wrong build for swimming? Was the pesky rules of the damned tournament? Can a swim tournament really determine if a guy is a good swimmer or not? Mike not only knows the Back Stroke, the Doggy Paddle–he’s made up seven more strokes! He studied all the masters!

Back to reality, let me just say that every martial arts style has its merits. They all work. The techniques can be applied against an opponent in a real match or fight and protect the fighter who trains in them. But the missing link is that, like Mike–the teacher himself has not used these techniques in even simulated combat, so how is he going to give proper instruction in using them? Mike knew how to swim and fish–but since he had never gotten the water to do it himself, since he never felt the pull of a fish tugging at his bait–he can’t teach a fishing student the difference between a nibble and a bite, or a hard current that felt like a fish. Yes, you don’t have to fight to know a technique, but there are many details about that technique you could never teach a student if you have no experience using them yourself. Monkey See, Monkey Do is the wrong way to teach self-defense. If you’ve ever wondered why you could take three years of high school Spanish and not be able to order dinner–yet a three year old could spend the summer with Abuela and come home speaking fluent Spanish–you’d understand. That difference is this: There is a difference between learning to perform an art and learning to use an art. I can teach all the vocabulary in a language, but until you get into the trenches and actually use that language you’ll only be good at impressing nonspeakers and friends who can’t tell the difference between Spanish and Portuguese (or Kung fu and Karate).

Here’s some food for thought… It is understandable that many of you have schools and have never fought using these arts. You may even be a fighter, but you drew from Karate and Boxing because perhaps you know your Sifu was not a fighting guy. Some of you use your athletic prowess, your size, or your reputation to succeed in fighting or avoid fighting altogether. If you truly want your students to evolve your art further than your teacher, or even further than you took it yourself–here is a simple, but difficult suggestion: You must extract techniques and concepts from your system, train your students in them (not just teach, but actually train and drill them), then throw them in the ocean with non-Kung Fu fighters to see your system in action. Let’s be realistic; most of you won’t go enter tournaments or sparring Round Robins at 45-50 years old. Understandable. But don’t fool your students the way our hypothetical friend Mike fooled his students. Put them in front of foreign styles and systems, have them do what you taught them, study the action–and accept the outcome of the matches, whether your guys win or lose. Perhaps the #1 reason Kung Fu guys don’t go to Karate tournament isn’t because those tournaments have rules–Kung Fu tournaments have rules. It isn’t because tournaments aren’t “real” fights. It isn’t because they can’t use deadly tournaments. It’s because they are afraid–just as you are afraid. Not afraid you’ll get hurt, you are afraid of losing. You don’t want to have students become discouraged, and bring shame on your school and/or your style. You don’t want students to feel like their training is a waste of time; and they now have the same fear their Sifu had. It’s time for that to end. You don’t need boxing. Sure, there are many things you can learn from boxers. They have a well-developed training regimen that could be used to enhance traditional martial arts. Just don’t rely on it for your combat readiness. Take the time and explore your system deeper. Be more courageous and get out there with strangers and bang–or put your students out there. And important stage in your growth as a Sifu is to develop your own ideas in the art you study and actually study how it stands up against other ideas and styles. Once you’ve seen the results, don’t make excuses why they failed or fell short. Just adopt what you’ve observed and they’ve learned. Modify, test, execute. Wash, rinse, repeat.

So perhaps your art has that missing link. Don’t pass that handicap down to your students.

Sifu Clarke is an old friend of mine. When I met him, he had challenged my Si Hing to a sparring match, and then ended up training with us for a while. He is a sincere, dedicated martial artist. I get his point. Unfortunately, many Sifus and Masters who get his point just don’t have the knowledge and experience base to represent his concept well. Traditional Chinese Martial Arts has been around too long to be a laughing stock, so I expect this next generation to come out with a vengeance and make these arts look good–without “sleeping with the enemy”… 😉